


Cyborgs and Cigarettes

by bomberqueen17



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Human, Short, Smoking, Vignette, cyborg, questions of identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:07:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17/pseuds/bomberqueen17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment in the life of the Winter Soldier.<br/>Takes place sometime between 1960-1980ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyborgs and Cigarettes

Alexei and Sergei sat together on the bench of the personnel carrier, huddled against the cold. The Soldier was sitting across from them, impassive, masked, unmoving. 

“Is he awake?” Sergei whispered. Alexei peered under the brim of his uniform cap at the unmoving figure, who swayed gently with the motion of the vehicle but otherwise made no sign of awareness. His hands were loosely on his thighs, posture neutral, metal arm gleaming menacingly in the indirect light through the truck canopy. 

“I don’t know,” Alexei whispered back. 

“I heard he is a robot,” Sergei whispered. “Perhaps he has been shut off, I didn’t see if they turned a switch or something.”

“Hush,” Alexei said, “he will hear.”

“If he is still switched on,” Sergei said. 

“Hush,” Alexei said repressively. 

They rode in silence for about twenty minutes, Sergei occasionally poking Alexei with increasingly-disrespectful guesses about the Soldier’s nature, less and less quiet. Alexei told him every time to shut up, wearier each time. 

At last Alexei was bored enough to pull out a cigarette. He lit it, offered one to Sergei, who refused, and put the pack away in his pocket. 

Suddenly the Soldier stirred, raising a hand to unfasten the mask covering his lower face. He pulled it off, then removed his goggles, setting them down on the bench. He was a man, in his late twenties perhaps, with pale blue wide-set eyes and a curving mouth in a handsome, square face. He looked a little tired, and pale like he never saw the sun, but unmistakably human. 

“Hey,” he said to Alexei. “Can I bum a cigarette?”

In shock Sergei blurted the most profane curse he knew, nearly falling over in his effort to hide behind Alexei.

Ignoring Sergei, Alexei pulled the pack out, held it out to the Soldier, who took one, and took Alexei’s proffered lighter with a wry smile. He got it to light on the first try, which was better than Alexei had ever managed with that cheap piece of crap. He handed the lighter back. “Thanks, man,” he said, and sat back, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. He held the cigarette in his metal hand, between thumb and forefinger, fingers cupped loosely around it. 

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Alexei said.

“You didn’t know I was human,” the Soldier said, visibly amused. His accent was strange, old-fashioned, but not foreign. He blew smoke out his nose. 

“I, I, I,” Sergei said, ghostly pale, “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the Soldier said, and took another drag. The smoke curled out of his mouth as he squinted and thoughtfully said, “I’m not sure I’m human either.”

 


End file.
